Pharaoh. Уилбур Смит

as I knew he would. He had moved his men in two wings around both our flanks simultaneously, catching the Hyksos aggressors in a perfect encircling movement, like a shoal of sardines in the fisherman’s net.

      The Hyksos fought with the recklessness born of despair, but my shield wall held firm and Hurotas’ Lacedaemons were fresh and eager for the fray. They drove the hated foe against our line, like slabs of raw meat thrown down upon the butcher’s block. Swiftly the conflict changed from battle to slaughter, and finally the surviving Hyksos threw down their weapons and fell to their knees on the ground that had become a muddy quagmire of blood. They pleaded for mercy but King Hurotas laughed at their pleas for quarter.

      He shouted at them, ‘My mother and my infant sisters made the same entreaty to your fathers as you make to me now. I give you the answer that your heartless fathers gave my dear ones. Die, you bastards, die!’

      And when the echoes of their last death cry had sunk into silence, King Hurotas led his men back across that sanguine field and they cut the throats of any of the enemy who still showed the faintest flicker of life. I admit that in the heat of battle I was able to set aside my usual noble and compassionate instincts and join in celebrating our victory by sending more than a few of the wounded Hyksos into the waiting arms of their foul god Seth. Every throat I cut I dedicated to the memory of one of my brave men who had died earlier that same day on this field.

      Night had fallen and the full moon stood high in the sky before King Hurotas and I were able to leave the battlefield. He had learned from me much earlier in our friendship that all our wounded must be brought to safety and cared for, and then the perimeter of the camp had to be secured and sentries posted before the commanders could see to their own requirements. Thus it was well after midnight before we had fulfilled our responsibilities and the two of us were able to ride down the hill to the bank of the Nile where his flagship was moored.

      When we went on board Admiral Hui was on the deck to meet us. After Hurotas he was one of my favourites, and we greeted each other like the old and dear friends that we truly were. He had lost most of the once dense bush of hair on his head and his naked scalp peeped shyly through the gaps in the grey strands, but his eyes were still bright and alert and his ubiquitous good humour warmed my heart. He led us to the captain’s cabin and with his own hands poured both the king and I large bowls of red wine mulled with honey. I have seldom tasted anything as delicious as that draught. I allowed Hui to replenish my bowl more than once before exhaustion interrupted our joyous and raucous reunion.

      We slept until the sun was almost clear of the horizon the following morning and then we bathed in the river, washing off the grime and bloodstains of the previous day’s exertions. Then when the combined armies of Egypt and Lacedaemon were assembled on the river-bank we mounted up on fresh horses and with both Hurotas’ legions and my own surviving fellows marching proudly ahead of us, pennants flying, drums beating and lutes playing, we rode up from the river to the Heroes’ Gate of the city of Luxor to report our glorious victory to the new Pharaoh of Egypt, Utteric Turo, eldest son of Tamose.

      When we reached the gates of the golden city we found them closed and bolted. I rode forward and hailed the keepers of the gate. I was forced to repeat my demands for entry more than once, before the guards appeared on top of the wall.

      ‘Pharaoh wants to know who you are and what is your business,’ the captain of the watch demanded of me. I knew him well. His name was Weneg. He was a handsome young officer who wore the Gold of Valour, Egypt’s highest military honour. I was shocked that he didn’t recognize me.

      ‘Your memory serves you poorly, Captain Weneg,’ I called back. ‘I am Lord Taita, Chairman of the Royal Council, and commanding general of Pharaoh’s army. I come to report our glorious victory over the Hyksos.’

      ‘Wait here!’ Captain Weneg ordered and his head disappeared below the battlements. We waited an hour and then another.

      ‘It seems that you may have given offence to the new Pharaoh.’ King Hurotas gave me a wry smile. ‘Who is he, and do I know him?’

      I shrugged. ‘His name is Utteric Turo, and you have missed nothing.’

      ‘Why was he not on the field of battle with you over these last days, as was his royal duty?’

      ‘He is a gentle child of thirty-five years of age, not given to low company and rough behaviour,’ I explained, and Hurotas snorted with laughter.

      ‘You have not lost your way with words, good Taita!’

      Finally Captain Weneg reappeared on the ramparts of the city wall. ‘Pharaoh Utteric Turo the Great has graciously granted you the right to enter the city. However, he orders you to leave your horses outside the walls. The person standing with you may accompany you, but no others.’

      I gasped to hear the sheer arrogance of the reply. A retort rose to my lips, but I bit down hard upon it. The entire army of Egypt together with that of Lacedaemon were listening with full attention. Almost three thousand men. I was not disposed to follow that line of discussion.

      ‘Pharaoh is most gracious,’ I replied. The Heroes’ Gate swung ponderously open.

      ‘Come along with me, you unnamed person standing with me,’ I told Hurotas grimly. Shoulder to shoulder, hands gripping the pommels of our swords but with visors raised, we marched into the city of Luxor. However, I did not feel like a conquering hero.

      Captain Weneg and a troop of his men marched ahead of us. The city streets were hauntingly silent and empty. It must have taken the full two hours’ waiting that Pharaoh had enforced upon us to clear the streets of the customary swarming crowds. When we reached the palace the gates swung open seemingly of their own accord, without fanfare or cheering multitudes gathered to welcome us.

      We climbed the wide staircase to the entrance of the royal audience hall, but the cavernous building was empty and silent except for the echoes of our bronze-shod sandals. We marched down the aisle of empty stone seats and approached the throne on its high dais at the far end of the hall.

      We halted before the empty throne. Captain Weneg turned to me and his voice was harsh, his manner brusque. ‘Wait here!’ he snapped, and then without lightening his expression he silently mouthed the words which I had no difficulty lip-reading: ‘Forgive me, my Lord Taita. This form of welcome is not of my choosing. I, personally, hold you in the highest esteem.’

      ‘Thank you, Captain,’ I replied. ‘You have performed your duty admirably.’ Weneg acknowledged me with a clenched fist held to his chest. He led his men away. Hurotas and I were left standing at attention before the empty throne.

      I did not need to warn him that we were certainly under observation from some hidden peephole in the stone walls. Nevertheless I felt my own patience under strain from the strange and unnatural antics of this new Pharaoh.

      Finally I heard the sound of voices and distant laughter, which became closer and louder until the curtains covering the entrance to the hall behind the throne were jerked aside and the Pharaoh Utteric Turo, self-styled the Great, strolled into the audience hall. His hair was dressed in ringlets which hung to his shoulders. There were garlands of flowers around his neck. He was eating a pomegranate and spitting the pips on to the stone floor. He ignored Hurotas and me as he ascended the throne and made himself comfortable on the pile of cushions.

      Utteric Turo was followed by a half-dozen young boys in various stages of dress and undress. All of them were decked with flowers and most of them had painted their faces with blood-crimson lips and blue or green shades around their eyes. Some of them were munching fruit or sweetmeats as Pharaoh was doing but two or three of them carried cups of wine which they sipped from as they chatted and giggled together.

      Pharaoh hurled one of his cushions at the leading boy and there were squeals of laughter as it knocked the wine cup from his hands and the contents spilled down his tunic.

      ‘Oh, you naughty Pharaoh!’ the boy protested. ‘Now, just look what you have done to my pretty garment!’

      ‘Please forgive me, my dear Anent.’ Pharaoh rolled his eyes in penitence. ‘Come and sit beside me.